Chapter 56: Press Conference

Chapter 56: Chapter 56: Press Conference

The Genesis City Arena Media Center was a zoo.

Every major news network, Guild representative, and freelance Awakener blogger was crammed into the massive, brightly lit room. A long wooden table sat at the front, lined with microphones and Association officials acting as neutral moderators.

Donald stood just offstage, adjusting the cuff of his dark jacket. The new B-Rank Thunderclap Pile Bunker strapped to his forearm was heavy, but the dense titanium weight was incredibly reassuring.

Evelyn stood next to him. She wasn’t wearing a dress today. She was in the sleek, dark urban combat gear Bastian had made for her. She looked like a soldier stepping back onto the battlefield.

Through the heavy curtains, they could hear Sterling’s voice booming over the speakers.

"The Iron Guild has always stood for transparency and the safety of this city," Sterling declared.

Donald peeked through the curtain. Sterling was standing at the center podium, wearing a flawless gray suit. Sitting to his right was Kaelen, the A-Rank Berserker, looking massive and deeply uncomfortable in a collared shirt that barely fit his thick neck. Damian stood in his usual spot in the shadows near the exit.

"Which is exactly why," Sterling continued, his tone turning gravely serious, "I feel it is my duty to address the stunt pulled at the Association testing block this morning."

The press pit fell dead silent.

"We all know the limits of Awakener biology," Sterling said smoothly, looking out at the cameras. "A shattered core does not heal. It certainly does not magically jump from B-Rank to a mythical S-Rank overnight. It is biologically and magically impossible."

Sterling leaned into the microphone, his gray eyes narrowing.

"Unless," Sterling said, dropping the bombshell, "you cheat. The Iron Guild has received credible intelligence that Evelyn Vance is utilizing illegal, corrupted blood-relics to artificially inflate her mana signature. She is using forbidden, demonic artifacts to fake a class evolution."

The room erupted. Reporters started shouting over each other.

It was a brilliant, desperate lie. Sterling couldn’t deny the Association’s S-Rank reading, so he was trying to invalidate it. He was trying to turn the public against her before the tournament even started, framing her as a dangerous, unstable rogue using dark magic.

Donald looked at Evelyn. "Ready?"

"Always," she said.

They pushed through the curtains and walked onto the stage.

The cameras immediately pivoted. The flashing bulbs were blinding. Evelyn didn’t flinch. She walked straight to the empty podium on the left side of the stage, directly opposing Sterling. Donald stood a half-step behind her, his golden mask gleaming under the stage lights.

Evelyn leaned down to her microphone.

"Demonic artifacts?" Evelyn asked. Her voice wasn’t amplified by Donald’s mana this time, but it didn’t need to be. The room instantly quieted down to hear her. "That’s a creative theory, Sterling. Did Damian write that one for you?"

Sterling’s jaw tightened. "The Association scanners measure raw output, Evelyn. They don’t measure the source. We know what you’re doing."

Evelyn let out a short, genuine laugh. She didn’t argue. She just let a fraction of her new aura bleed out into the room.

It wasn’t a violent, kinetic explosion like in the testing chamber. It was a slow, rolling wave of pure, concentrated sapphire and gold light. The temperature in the room didn’t drop; it grew warm. A feeling of absolute, crushing purity washed over the press pit.

"My new class is Valkyrie," Evelyn stated calmly, staring right into Sterling’s eyes. "My core passive is called Divine Pulse. It converts my kinetic force into pure, unfiltered holy mana."

She held up her hand. The air around her fingers literally warped with golden, celestial heat.

"You can’t fake holy mana," Evelyn said, her voice echoing in the silent room. "If I was using a demonic blood-relic, my own aura would burn me from the inside out. You know that. And the Association officials sitting right next to you know that."

The three Awakener Association moderators sitting at the table exchanged nervous glances, but one of them nodded slightly, confirming the magical theory on live television.

Sterling’s narrative completely collapsed in less than sixty seconds.

The reporters smelled blood. They instantly turned their questions on Kaelen.

"Kaelen!" a reporter shouted from the second row. "Are you prepared to face a mythical class? Does the Iron Guild actually stand a chance against an S-Rank?"

Kaelen’s face flushed dark red. The Berserker gripped the edges of the table. He hated cameras, he hated talking, and he hated being humiliated.

"I don’t care what her class is!" Kaelen barked, his heavy gravel voice booming through the mics. "She’s a stray! She’s a broken B-Rank playing dress-up!"

"I don’t know, Kaelen," Evelyn taunted effortlessly, leaning her elbows on the podium. "You looked pretty nervous sitting there. Are you sure you don’t want to back out? I promise I won’t hit you too hard. I know your charcoal armor dents easily."

That was the breaking point.

Kaelen roared. He surged out of his chair, grabbing the heavy wooden table and violently flipping it over. Association officials scrambled out of the way as the table crashed onto the stage, shattering microphones and scattering papers everywhere.

"I’ll rip your head off!" Kaelen screamed, his A-Rank aura flaring wildly, completely out of control. "I’ll snap your spine before the bell even rings!"

Sterling grabbed Kaelen’s arm, yanking the massive Berserker back, but the damage was done.

Hundreds of cameras captured the exact moment the Iron Guild’s new Champion threw a violent, unhinged temper tantrum on live television, while Evelyn Vance stood perfectly still, watching him with calm, absolute pity.

The contrast was devastating. The Iron Guild looked like a mob of rabid dogs.

Donald stepped up to the microphone attached to Evelyn’s podium. He looked at Sterling, who was barely restraining his furious Berserker.

"Since the Iron Guild is so incredibly confident," Donald said smoothly, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Let’s put some real weight on tomorrow’s duel."

Sterling glared at Donald. "This doesn’t concern you, boy."

"It concerns my portfolio," Donald replied.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out the solid black data-card. He tossed it onto the unbroken section of the podium, making sure the cameras got a clear shot of it.

"Thirty-eight million liquid credits," Donald announced. He used the exact balance of his System account, knowing the sheer number would paralyze the room. "Fully verified, untraceable, and ready for escrow."

The reporters actually stopped taking pictures for a second. Thirty-eight million was an absurd amount of personal wealth.

Donald looked dead at Sterling.

"I am officially wagering my entire liquid portfolio on Evelyn Vance winning the finals tomorrow," Donald said, his voice cold and loud. "If she loses, the Iron Guild takes the thirty-eight million. You instantly clear your debts. You save your Guild."

Sterling stared at the black card. The greed and desperation warring in his gray eyes were obvious.

"And if she wins?" Sterling gritted out.

"If she wins," Donald smiled behind the gold mask. "I want the deed to the Iron Guild headquarters. I want your Guild charter. I want your seat."

The Media Center completely exploded.

An Association official holding a digital tablet stepped forward carefully. "Guild Master Sterling. As a sanctioned tournament duel, Association rules allow for high-stakes wagers between parties, provided both consent on the public record. Do you accept?"

Sterling was trapped.

He had just accused Evelyn of being a fraud. His Champion had just thrown a tantrum. If he backed down from the wager now, he would look like a coward who didn’t believe in his own fighter. His remaining investors would flee by noon.

But if he accepted, he was betting his entire empire on a fight Kaelen could not win fairly.

Sterling’s eyes flicked to Damian in the shadows. The secretary gave a microscopic, almost invisible nod. The wards were rigged. The Vault was open. They had a plan to cheat.

Sterling looked back at Donald.

"I accept," Sterling sneered, his voice dripping with venom. "Your money is as good as mine, little boy. Enjoy your last night in my city."

Sterling turned sharply and marched off the stage, dragging the furious Kaelen behind him.

Donald picked his black card back off the podium and slipped it into his jacket. He looked at Evelyn.

"Thirty-eight million?" Evelyn whispered, completely stunned. "You bet everything you have?"

"I bet on a sure thing," Donald corrected softly. "Come on. Let’s go get ready for a fight."